Feelings
by SAR132-4
Summary: "Spike was determined, he didn't want to lose anyone today, not to a bomb." - Post-episodic drabble to Follow the Leader. Spike-centric. One shot. Rated T.


**Well, this muse kind of popped up in my head. From "Follow the Leader" if it HAD to be a prompt in the LJ community, I'd choose #family or #protection or even #bomb. But since this is FanFiction . . . I'll get on with the story now. **

**Disclaimer: Nothing owned, nothing gained in the last year. I still am without the rights to Flashpoint . . . damn.**

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Spike had never been so scared in his life. Okay, maybe not in his life. He had been more frightened only once before.

That time.

When Lou had stepped on a landmine and the bomb technician felt so helpless . . . so weak. He was an SRU officer, trained in the high risk, life or death situation of a hot call. This was no different, except these guys were _dangerous_ not just dangerous, insane. Crazy members of some cult following, angry at anyone who wasn't white. They shot his boss, the one man who seemed invincible, was ducking for cover behind a metal bin, clutching his arm.

Now he was standing in City Hall, in the immigration building, disarming a bomb. It was easy to tell how scared everyone was, these bombs were built to cause mass injury and even death. Sarge practically hovered over him before he told the injured sergeant to get out of the blast radius. It was always a rule: Never have two men down range of an explosive device.

It was easy to disarm, just one wire. He mused over how simple, almost comical, it seemed. Just one wire between a benign package and one that can make a big boom. It was almost laughable how non-volatile chemicals could be mixed to create something massive enough to take out a crowd of innocent civilians. Or your best friend.

Now he ran towards the standoff between Sam and Trent, the brainwashed and angry "soldier" of the white supremacist group. Spike was determined, he didn't want to lose anyone today, not to a bomb.

Sam was frantic, telling the kid that Victor had abandoned his post, that Trent was a good soldier, and that was why he should give up. It was almost three pm, Jules was actually counting the seconds. _Seconds_. To the time when the bomb would do what it was unfortunately designed to do. Explode and quite possibly kill somebody.

Everyone was yelling, Jules was practically screaming at Sam, Spike was yelling, Sam was shouting for Trent to place the device on the ground and run, Trent's brother, Danny, was yelling for Trent. It was as chaotic as the bomb going off itself. Finally Sam gave up and they all ran for cover, cowering against a wall as the charge went off.

Spike squeezed his eyes closed as the bomb went off and the shockwave traveled through the air, knocking the wind out of all the officers. It never got old, the feel of a shockwave against his chest, the deafening explosion that threatened to blast his eardrums to kingdom come.

Then . . . silence. He was ready to turn around and see an unrecognizable form of Trent, ready to mistaken it for Lou and fight to keep his already frenzied emotions in check. Everyone slowly turned around, Spike saw a body on the floor. It was as if time slowed, the smoke seemed to hang in the air and everyone was muted. He ran up to the form, reminding himself again and again, it wasn't Lou. Lou's gone.

He was prepared for the worst, what he got was a very shaken up Trent and a very relieved Danny.

Hours later, the team had gathered in the gym to leave for drinks at The Goose. Everyone was poking fun at Greg for having to buy drinks and fussing over him just in case his stubbornness won over the need for him to get medical attention from someone other than a paramedic.

Spike saw an unfamiliar face come into the room, he called out for Jules and the team seemed to have stilled, except for Greg who had a look of understanding on his face.

"Guys, this is Steve," Jules said, and gave them the normal introduction, adding that they had attended high school together.

Spike smiled as they walked away to The Goose, Jules giving Steve one last excited grin before leaving with the team. These were the days he lived for, the bomb calls that don't kill, the shoot outs that only injure one person in a very minor way. And it looked like there was hope for the future, he only hoped Steve was the right guy for Jules.

And if the paramedic really was going to be hanging around the station that often . . .

Would he mind helping to fix Babycakes?


End file.
